


cherry blossom-tinted

by butterflyknifetricks



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode 9, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Introspection, Kaoru-centric, Light Angst, M/M, Mentioned Hasegawa Langa, Post Episode 9, implied past one-sided cherry/adam, no beta we die like Adam should, semi-established Joe/Cherry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29981556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyknifetricks/pseuds/butterflyknifetricks
Summary: Kaoru’s childhood memories were stored in a mental scrapbook. Shoved in behind lock and key, carefully placed within laminated pages and glass sheet protectors, a memory of a time so bright, so vivid, that it had to be dulled down not to hurt. A time before Adam had started searching for a love he suddenly couldn’t find in anyone else -- that he certainly couldn’t provide for the people that used to love him.And when Adam changed, when the spark that glinted in Adam’s eye had blown into a full-on fire, he’d hidden the scrapbook away. Similar to a child outgrowing their fairytale endings — because for all Kaoru had loved Adam, he’d sure known that’d be no fairytale — the scrapbook had been stowed in a dark corner of his mind, with his hopes and dreams and Adam’s cool disinterest paired with the sound of cracking bone.---Or, the before and after of Kaoru's beef with Adam.
Relationships: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	cherry blossom-tinted

**Author's Note:**

> i watched sk8 ep9 and then proceeded to obsessively think abt it until i gave up and wrote this thing. im sorry.

There’s a certain kind of electric tension that can only be felt at ‘S’. Where Kaoru, despite everything he projected himself to be, felt like a teenager again -- wild and young and oh-so naive. A simpler feeling, of adrenaline and the _rush_ of skating, the perfect angle, the perfect timing, of freedom. 

And that feeling was there in spades as he waited for his beef with Adam to start. The electric tension of ‘S’ and a new feeling, static-y and sharp, leaving Kaoru on edge, too floaty to call fear but too uncomfortable for excitement. 

It crawled atop his skin, sinking into the uncharacteristic silences Adam left behind, in his dismissive comments and noncommittal statements, in his _‘I didn’t want to fight you’_ and _‘Oh, have I?’_ that left Kaoru alight with something like rage and frustration. 

He felt as if he was vibrating out of his skin, looking for someone who, by all rights, didn’t exist any longer. The entire endeavor seemed futile, unless he won. Unless something changed, some _one_ changed. 

And, really, wasn’t that what he and Kojiro had been hoping for the entire time? Kojiro, with his eyes that saw right into Kaoru’s fucking soul and his sad smile and his _‘Of course, he’s scared of losing against us.’_

Kojiro, who stood right in front of Kaoru with that sad fucking look on his face, and what could Kaoru do but call him a _‘loser gorilla’_? To allow for a return to a normalcy lost in the static of a beef against _Adam_ , for the all-but promise of broken bones unless Kaoru wins, unless he _wins._

Kaoru will win. 

And, as he watched surprised outrage flit across Kojiro’s face, Kaoru’s assertion of winning against Adam met by an almost gentle goad promising Kojiro’s laughter at Kaoru’s potential loss, he felt a warmth fill him from the bottom up. 

Kojiro is not Adam. Even with Kaoru’s dumb hero-worship of Adam as a teen, Kojiro had always fallen into a category of his own. Kojiro had always been Kojiro, best friend, incorrigible flirt, heart of fucking gold.

Just a few seconds of back-and-forth, even cut short by Adam as it was, eased the static discomfort saturating the air. Only the electric tension of ‘S’ remained, adrenaline and anticipation. 

The lights counted up to go, and they were off, wind whipping through Kaoru’s hair, just him, Kojiro, Adam, and ‘S’. 

-.-

Kaoru’s childhood memories were stored in a mental scrapbook. Shoved in behind lock and key, carefully placed within laminated pages and glass sheet protectors, a memory of a time so bright, so vivid, that it had to be dulled down not to hurt. A time before Adam had started searching for a love he suddenly couldn’t find in anyone else -- that he certainly couldn’t provide for the people that used to love him. 

And when Adam changed, when the spark that glinted in Adam’s eye had blown into a full-on fire, he’d hidden the scrapbook away. Similar to a child outgrowing their fairytale endings — because for all Kaoru had loved Adam, he’d sure known that’d be no fairytale — the scrapbook had been stowed in a dark corner of his mind, with his hopes and dreams and Adam’s cool disinterest paired with the sound of cracking bone. 

The beef with Adam… was opening all of that back up again. And, on a certain level, Kaoru had known that. He’d known after all, when he’d set his sights on beating Adam, when he’d perfected turn after turn, calculation after calculation, that skating with Adam would be reopening memories he’d rather not look at again. 

Opening something so carefully preserved, so delicately protected, and knowing, just _knowing_ it would be ruined. That the water damage would have blurred the pictures past recognition, the stain of current actions marring the past until, maybe, just maybe, there wasn’t anything left _to_ save.

He’d known. And, yet, it still hurt. 

Like a skateboard to the face. 

Like disorientation and flashing lights and heartbreak for a love long lost and an aching head and an aching heart and the word _‘boring.’_

And, as he’d lain there, what had hurt the most was that he’d _known_ but hoped anyway. 

That somewhere in himself, he’d looked at Adam and seen the boy from his childhood who’d looked at Kaoru and called him _'special'_ instead of the terrifying dangerous bastard Adam truly was. 

The Adam who’d mercilessly slammed his skateboard into Kaoru’s face. 

And he’d been left there, on the cold rocky ground of S, bright light making his head throb and tears pricking his eyelids. He’d struggled to sit up, nausea and vertigo rendering him unsteady and causing his vision to swim, all-but confirming the at-least low grade concussion he’d sustained, and he’d been alone. Like an actor who’d forgotten his lines, a lone figure to gawk at, like an ant underneath a magnifying glass.

His failure broadcasted for the world to see. Pride goeth before the fall. Here was Cherry Blossom, who dared to race against Adam and believe that the outcome could be different, arm bent the wrong way, ankle twisted, cut on his forehead bleeding sluggishly into his right eye. 

Alone, left behind while Adam forged ahead, soliloquizing his obsession with Langa, and Kaoru couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of disgust toward the both of them. 

Shame on himself, for believing that things could be different — that Adam could be reached, that Kojiro was wrong, that a beef might be able to do what a punch to the face couldn’t. 

Shame on Adam, for being such a despicable human being. For doing whatever he was doing with Langa, who didn’t _know_ better — skating against Adam was like nothing else until it inevitably ended in broken bones and blood and pain. 

And broken bones and blood and pain it was. It was sitting on the dirt track of ‘S’ and knowing he’d completely and utterly failed. That his efforts and his trials had amounted to a simple _‘boring’_ from one of the people he used to treasure most. That, even among the hushed whispers and dramatic yelling, Carla was silent, and he was alone. 

Adrift on memories of a childhood shared between three children who’d grown up to be completely different. On memories that had cracked and shattered, but were too broken to gather back up with bleeding fingers and attempt to put back together again. Even if he could, with a broken arm. 

Even with the semi-alright arm that promptly gave out upon seeing Kojiro, sending Kaoru crashing back down to the ground, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. 

His awareness, previously holding on with an iron grip, sharp points of red hot pain piercing his skull, rapidly began to slip away. 

All Kaoru wanted was to go to sleep. To close his eyes and pretend, just for a moment, only a moment, that Adam hadn’t made his stance on their old friendship viscously clear. 

And he could hear a hushed voice, familiar and loved, whisper that everything was okay — could feel himself lifted into careful arms, warm and gentle and safe. Could feel Kojiro’s presence and know, for the moment, that everything was okay. That everything would be okay. 

Could feel a soft kiss against his hair and feel an outpouring of love, cyclical in nature, soft from being shared. 

Something Adam would never experience. Could never experience, not with his warped understanding of love and worth. 

And, with darkness lapping at the edges of his consciousness, safe in Kojiro’s arms, Kaoru let the blissful embrace of sleep take him. 

After all, Kaoru wasn’t Adam. He wasn’t alone. 

-.-

Breaking out of the hospital and its sterile, mind-numbing atmosphere was relief. He was tired of being poked and prodded, and by the time the broken arm, broken ankle, and concussed head were all wrapped up, Kaoru was long past ready to leave. 

And going to Kojiro’s? That was subconscious. Where else could he have gone? 

With the Okinawa breeze cool against his heated skin, Carla a low, comforting hum underneath him, and _Sia la Luce_ ’s inviting warmth before him, Kaoru could feel himself relax. Could feel tense muscles loosen, sharp pangs of pain dull into an ache, his vice like grip on his emotions beginning to crumble, pain ebbing out in a small stream. 

Opening the door to Kojiro’s brisk _‘Are you an idiot?’_ felt like a weight falling from his shoulders. A feeling of safety associated with Kojiro, with only Kojiro. The ache of loss and _Adam_ soothed by the warm balm of Kojiro’s presence. 

So he sat at the bar and quipped back and forth, shook the wine bottle and made faces at Kojiro, smiled after Kojiro grumbled, but went to get Kaoru a new bottle of wine anyway. 

Laid his head down on the bar table, countertop hard and uncomfortable as he relaxed, Kojiro’s muttering a warm background noise to the white noise in Kaoru’s head. 

And if he closed his eyes? Well, there’s no place safer than _Sia la Luce._ Than with Kojiro.

So he closed his eyes, good arm cushioning his head, and felt himself begin to drift. He could hear Kojiro say something about a _Lafite_ , its meaning escaping him, but a comfort nonetheless. 

A warm presence settled beside him, and suddenly, the wooden countertop beneath his head was less uncomfortable. A wave of exhaustion rolled over him, and Kaoru felt his awareness slip away, the last thought flitting through his mind a gentle _‘I’m with Kojiro.’_

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading my mess of thoughts!! i love cherry so much and ep 9 hit me like a truck. i just think cherry and joe deserve to b happy and adam deserves to b in jail. the title is also a rly dumb play on the 'rose-tinted' idiom, but like, cherry blossom bc cherry blossom lol. that's all. hope u enjoyed!!


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